


evermore | Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza | Borealtwt

by AlexandraMariaAnna



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dadza, Gen, I just want ranboo to be happy, I would like to establish myself as january tenth denialist, Right?, get out of his head dream or at least pay rent, hurt comfortish, i would also like to punch the smp dream, obligatory not a native speaker tag, orange tea is becoming a reoccuring theme here, right - Freeform, so last stream didn't happen right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:41:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexandraMariaAnna/pseuds/AlexandraMariaAnna
Summary: he sees light in the snowmaybe things are going to be okay now.
Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 646





	evermore | Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza | Borealtwt

A snowstorm wasn't something Ranboo did not expect when he moved north; quite the opposite, actually - he was mentally prepared for the possibility of one occurring, especially with the weather in the Dream SMP being as moody as ever. Still, the cold wind came suddenly, and with the strength of ancient titans began piling snow into his little shack faster than he could remove it, first with a shovel, and then with his bare hands when the said shovel broke. After a good couple minutes of a never-stopping fight against the force of nature that picked at his skin and burned it where the gentle white fluff melted against his warm body, he gave up and huddled himself in his cape pressed into the corner of his small shelter. He just had to wait the storm out - he would not die of cold, his enderman side was used to every biome (except the Nether. He hated the Nether for reasons he was too ashamed to admit). Still, the wind was loud, the water burned, and he was quickly getting uncomfortable, hunched against the wall. 

A voice, struggling against the howling wind. It was calling his name with urgency, and Ranboo raised his eyes, squinting to see through the overwhelming amount of snow that was obscuring his vision. Through the eternal ballet of white and grey, he could barely see a flash of blue, and dim light of a lantern being waved around.

“RANBOO!” someone shouted, and the thick accent betrayed it to be Phil. If Ranboo was a dog, his ears would have perked up in attention. “Come inside! You’ll freeze out there!”  
“No thank you! Technoblade said he doesn’t like crowds and I want to respect his wishes!” he yelled back, and he swore that through the thundering of the storm, Ranboo heard the deepest sigh in his life.  
“He was the one who told me to get you inside the house! Stop being stupid and get over here, I’m cold!”

Before Phil even finished his sentence, Ranboo was already on his feet and jumping over the little fence he made around his shack. He couldn’t have Phil falling sick because he was being stubborn. He rubbed at his eyes as snow fell into them relentlessly; he could already feel the stinging irritation that would follow. He wondered if Technoblade had eye drops at his house; then again, he was already offering him shelter, it would be rude to ask for anything else.  
Phil waved the lantern in his hand again, just in case Ranboo lost sight of the cabin, and he smiled in relief when the boy began scaling the slippery stairs, almost tumbling to the bottom once or twice because of the amount of hurry he was in.

The door squeaked as Phil pulled it open, and with one long step, Ranboo walked inside, leaving the blizzard behind. 

The inside of the cabin was silent when compared to the raging wind outside. Crackling of burning logs, creaking of the wooden walls, and turning of aged paper pages of a book held by a strong hand - it felt comfortable, homely. Technoblade raised his eyes from his spot on the couch, quickly scanning both Phil and Ranboo from head to toe to make sure they were okay; or maybe he was just checking if they weren’t treading any snow into his house. The only one who knew the truth behind the gaze was Techno himself, and he sure as hell was not going to reveal his real intentions. 

“Hand me your cape Ranboo. I’ll hang it over the fire so it can dry; you hate water and wet things, right?” Phil extended his hand, having already shed his outerwear himself. Surely enough, the cape on his shoulders was heavy, and he fumbled to unhook the chain that kept the sides of the thick material together. Phil waited patiently, the corner of his mouth twitching in light amusement as he watched Ranboo’s fingers lose the small golden button yet another time. Techno didn’t even bother to look; he turned yet another page in his thick book, handling the paper gently, trying not to wrinkle it.

The cape fell to the floor with a dull thud, and Ranboo picked it up, his eyebrows furrowing when the wet material touched a part of his exposed arm. He patted himself on the back for wearing gloves - if he burned his hands as well, his ability to work would be hindered; and if he wasn’t useful anymore, it would be-

Phil was already gone, spreading the cape in front of the fireplace, and masking the smell of wet cloth by adding a pinch of herbs to the fire. The room was filled with autumn, the smell of nuts and leaves mixing with the ever-present tang of oranges in the air, one that has always been lingering within the walls of the house. Ranboo shuffled in place, unsure of what to do. He was out of the cold, and that was good and well. He was not, however, educated on what to do when taking shelter in someone’s home, and Techno sighed, closing his tome, frustrated at Ranboo fidgeting by the door.   
“Take a seat, Ranboo,” he said, and Ranboo jumped slightly, surprised at the monotone voice suddenly breaking the idyllic silence of the household. “I’ll make some tea if you want.”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose-”  
“Just sit down. Phil, where’s the tin?”

Phil raised his head from where he was poking the logs in the fireplace, and hummed, stroking his chin in thought. Techno waited for the answer patiently, putting his book away in the meantime.   
“I’m pretty sure it should be in the chest in the kitchen. If it’s not there, then it’s in my room.” he finally spoke, and Techno simply nodded his head. He disappeared in the doorway, ignoring Phil’s silent chuckle when he had to duck his head to get through the door.   
Ranboo sat down by the table like he was asked to, his back so straight that you could use it as a ruler. The room was silent. He had to speak.

“Um, sorry for being a bother-” he said, and Phil turned to face him, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m sure you would rather spend this time with Techno.” Ranboo locked his eyes with the table cloth, seemingly hand-embroidered. Colorful flowers - poppies, cornflowers, daffodils, daisies - adorned the pristine material, and Ranboo almost hummed in appreciation of the craft, before Phil spoke, his voice like wind chimes in the January breeze.  
“Why do you think you’re a bother?” he said, and Ranboo froze. “If you were one, we wouldn’t have invited you in. I reckon we are pretty honest people, me and Techno.”  
“Well, Techno said-”  
“Techno said that before he got to know you well.” Phil smiled, and for the first time Ranboo looked him in the eyes, even though he usually hated the feeling that the action brought. This time, however, there was no headache, no ringing in his ears and no bloodlust rising from his gut; only a gentle, warm feeling that spread from the center of his chest to his every joint. “Turns out that you’re much more… approachable than his previous roommate.” the man added, and Ranboo’s face fell ever so slightly.  
“ _You mean Tommy?_ ” 

Phil grimaced at the mention of the name. 

“Yes.” He muttered, and Ranboo felt a twinge of guilt in his stomach from bringing it up. “Tommy was insufferable. He stole, he was loud, he built things that looked... bad, to say the least. Still, he was the soul of the house, and I’m sure that Techno-”  
“I’m back.” a rough, monotone voice spoke from the doorway, and Phil jumped ever so slightly, interrupted in his monologue. He took a step to the side, and Techno walked into the room, in his hands three mugs full of steaming tea, carrying the gentle scent of citrus and cinnamon. His face was completely blank, but his hands were gripping the cups so hard Ranboo feared they would shatter; thus he stood up quickly and took his own from his hands, saving it from eventual demise. Techno nodded, and handed Phil one of the two remaining teas, and then took a seat directly across the one Ranboo occupied.

The room fell into a pleasant silence again when Phil joined them, the howling of the wind outside turning into a pleasant melody, harmonizing with the sound of fire and gentle sloshing of the tea inside of the blue cup. For the first time in a long while, nothing was knocking at the back of Ranboo’s mind, asking for entrance - it was only him, his friends, and the golden liquid in the porcelain vessel that kept his hands warm as he held it. 

Friends.

Just a couple of days ago having someone he could fully trust was a situation he thought would never happen to him. There was always a ‘ _but_ ’ in his relationships. You can live in L’Manburg _but_ you have to be loyal to it no matter what it will do. You can team up with us _but_ you have to agree with us. You can spend time with me _but_ you have to help me.   
Phil and Techno never said “ _but_ ”.   
Phil offered him shelter, and Techno offered him protection. They never asked for anything in return.

Ranboo took a sip of the tea, and he smiled gently as the tingly citrus spread across his taste buds. It was delicious, and even though it wasn’t his first time drinking it, it always felt like he was enjoying it completely anew. Was this the first time his memory problems actually worked in his favor? He wanted to laugh, but the tea washed away all of his emotions, leaving him in pleasant stasis. He let out a long breath.

Eyes. Techno was staring at him from over his own cup, and he felt cold sweat cover his back. Did he do something wrong?

  
“Technoblade, what-”  
“Are you okay?” Techno asked bluntly, and Ranboo blinked in surprise. Did he mean if the tea was to his liking?  
“Oh, yes, the tea is delicious. Thank you so much!” he shot him a wide smile, raising up the cup to show him that he did indeed drink out of it. Techno shook his head no in response.  
“No, I mean, are you physically okay? Tea is a liquid, and it has water in it.”   
Oh!

“That’s what you are worried about?” Ranboo laughed, this time not muting himself and letting his laughter ring in the orange and autumn filled air. “I can drink water, no problem! It’s just my outer skin that is sensitive. If it melts, it creates an enzyme that continues to melt the muscle and then the bone- That’s why I avoid the rain!”  
“Ow. That sounds painful.” Phil chimed in, and Ranboo nodded his head in silent agreement.   
“It is!”

It wasn’t the best topic for lighthearted conversation, but when Techno spoke up about a time when he got cut just a little too deep on his back and tried to compare that pain to a possible melting point, prompting Phil to chatter on and on about the experience of growing back wings after having both of them eaten by a sea creature, Ranboo realized that he fit into the conversation perfectly, like he was a puzzle that perfectly slid into a picture it was supposed to complete. The cups were soon empty, and as the conversation took a sharp turn into a heated dispute over the best type of wood, none of the men at the table noticed that the snowstorm had long subsided, and cold rays of the sun were once again brushing over the lands of the northern biome. 

It was heading into late evening when Phil walked Ranboo to the door after the latter insisted that he would not be staying the night at the main house, even though both Techno and Phil offered him a bed to sleep in. The cloak he wore was warm, dry, and had a faint scent of wood and smoke, which was both calming and serotonin-inducing; it reminded him of an afternoon spent with friends. There was one thing that was festering under his skin, however, one that took root when he first talked with Phil that day.

“Can I ask you a question, Phil?” he finally let out just as Phil closed the door behind himself, frowning when he noticed how much shoveling will they have to do the following day. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he added, and Phil hummed in agreement, prompting Ranboo to continue his train of thought. “Am I just a replacement for Tommy?”

There. He said it. And from the way Phil’s eyes widened when he heard the words that fell from Ranboo’s mouth, he wasn’t the only one that had that thought buried deep in the back of his mind. For a second Phil remained silent, and Ranboo instantly regretted saying anything; everything that he has built so far has been ruined now - oh, Phil will consider him a whining child who was ungrateful for what he got and wanted more, it’s over. Still, Phil only hummed, his eyes looking right at the moon that was just rising into the starry sky over Ranboo’s shoulder. Before the boy could spiral further into self-hatred, he spoke, his voice the softest Ranboo has ever heard.

“There is no such thing as replacing someone, Ranboo.” He said, and his hand twitched at his side, where his sword usually sits against his thigh. “When you come into someone’s life, you leave a mark that cannot be changed, you know? It’s just a little ‘you’ place you take. No matter if you stay or leave that mark will always be there, waiting, having already taken your shape.” There was something akin to longing in his voice; not quite sadness, not quite desperation, not quite mourning - it was a voice of a soldier who lost more than he gained, and whose heart has never fully healed from the things he gave up.  
“I’m sorry,” Ranboo muttered, embarrassed. Phil smiled, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.  
“Don’t be. You have all the right in the world to be skeptical of what surrounds you.” 

The night was fast approaching. Phil reached out and pulled the fur around the collar of Ranboo’s cape closer together, making sure he was warm.  
“We miss Tommy, Ranboo. Of course we do.” He whispered. It took a bit of straining for Ranboo to hear it against the still-present wind. “He made his choice, though, and we made ours. Ranboo, you aren’t Tommy, and we don’t want you to be him.”

There was something that clawed at Ranboo’s throat as he listened, soaking in words of genuine care and appreciation he hasn’t heard in a while. Ever. Something burned against his cheek, and he rubbed it with the back of his hand. Tears, he was crying. Was he this starved for touch? For contact? For genuine connections? His cheeks kept burning, and he kept rubbing at his face to stop the tears from falling - he was a mess, but he didn’t feel pain. An honest, heart-splitting feeling of euphoria filled his entire body, and he never wanted to let go of that high. He smiled.   
“Oh mate.” Phil laughed quietly. “Can you lean down a bit for me? You’re so tall.” 

He did just like he was told, and he almost shouted in surprise when a cold hand ruffled through his hair, gently rubbing at his scalp in silent adoration.  
“Just be you Ranboo. Don’t let anyone tell you who you need to be, okay?”  
“Okay.”  
“Attaboy.”

The evening felt so warm, even though the lakes long frosted over and stray snowflakes danced in the air; that night, Ranboo was filled with sun, and the voice in his head, condescending and mocking, was Icarus who flew too close to it and perished. 

***  
That night, as the clocks around the world struck midnight, Ranboo gently removed a page from his memory book. His fingertips, for once ungloved, traced the names written on the paper, following the ridges and loops. The ink was dry, obviously; it’s been weeks since he came up North, and since he wrote these two precious names in his little notebook. He knew, however, that it was time for change, and he folded the paper and placed it in his enderchest. Having made sure it was deposited safely, he pulled out a quill, and, with a gentle smile on his face began writing again, and every letter filled him with light.

_Family:  
_  
_Technoblade_  
_Phil_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a comic created by wonderful @OliverSonder on Twitter!  
> The last stream didn't happen, Ranboo is just chilling in the cabin with the boys drinking some tea, having fun, popping off-  
> Once again I drown myself in fluff and found family dynamics as an emotional response to enderman son having a first-degree meeting with the green boy.
> 
> Find me @SummoningFailed on Twitter to witness my breakdowns at 3 AM my time


End file.
